


Don't Blame Yourself Love

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abortion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Pregnancy, Trans Keith (Voltron), Well - Freeform, being uncomfortable with the pregnancy, dont read this honestly, dunkin donuts coffee, makes a cameo, self indulgent fic, this is a mess, um, why did i write this oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Oh.He remembers everything now and he feels…He feels.He vomits in the toilet.





	

He wakes up to lights too bright shining through the window and groans. Lance’s arm is swung over his chest and he shimmies a little to get out from under it.

Keith can’t really remember what happened last night all that well, just remembers getting entirely too shitfaced with their friend group. He can feel the groggy headache happening behind his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He remembers Pidge and Lance drinking more than him and Hunk, and him half carrying him the blocks back to their apartment. He remembers being thankful that it was two in the morning so that no one was in the elevator with them. He remembers Lance pulling off his shirt the minute they got into their apartment. He remembers-

Oh.

He remembers everything now and he feels…

He feels.

He vomits in the toilet.

He can hear Lance stir and cleans himself up, wipes at his face, flushes the toilet, rinses his mouth out. If Lance doesn’t remember, he’s not going to say anything, even if he can feel the full body discomfort travelling its way up to his brain.

“Mmmmn, Keith?”

He looks himself over again, just to make sure he looks normal and not like he wants to rip all of his insides out.

“Hey,” he says softly, walking back to the bed, closing the curtains because Lance is going to feel absolutely awful after last night. He crawls back under the covers, not ready to deal with what they did.

“Ohhhhhhh my fuck I drank too much last night,” Lance groans, shoving his face in the pillow. Keith pets his hair back gently, and Lance leans into it.

“Can you… keep doing that?”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking.

“Mmm,” is what Lance says in response. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

He freezes up, hand stilling, and Lance makes a noise of protest. He shakes himself off and continues.

“Ahhhah no, I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Ughhhhhh fuck, I have no clue.”

Keith’s heartbeat stops going haywire and he snuggles Lance closer to him, still running his fingers through his hair. Lance lets out a nervous laugh.

“You okay?”

He can keep this to himself, he thinks, get over it fast by not talking about it He knows it sounds ridiculous, but if Lance doesn’t remember, he doesn’t want to either.

“Mhm,” he says. “Just… headache.”

Lance lets out what sounds like a relieved breath, and Keith knows he can never bring it up.

\---

It’s three days later that he realizes they didn’t use a condom.

They’d made it inside and Lance had asked what he wanted because he was breathless and red-faced and kissing him too hard. He’d wanted it then, begged him between kisses to fuck him. Please Lance, he said. Please please I need you-

He cuts off that train of thought, don’t go there, he tells himself.

That disgusting feeling is back, and he feels so tired, so tired of this hate he has for himself. He absentmindedly bites at his fingers, chewing to try and get his brain back under control. The door opens.

“Guess who brought home pizza!”

He’s still chewing, trying to focus on whatever conspiracy documentary is on the television. He doesn’t realize Lance is in the room until a pizza box is dropped on the table in front of him. He jumps.

“Hey,” Lance says. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” he says hastily. “I’m good it’s good.”

He gives Keith a look before sitting down next to him, pulling out a slice of pizza.

“You sure?” he asks between bites. “You’ve seemed kind of out of it these past couple days.”

“It’s—,“ and he almost says it right there, vulnerable and wanting on their couch. He wants Lance to know, he wants to talk about it. But he doesn’t remember and it’s fine like that. “It’s just body stuff.”

Lance sets his pizza down on top of the box and leans in closer. “Well, I’ll have you know that you are absolutely the most handsome guy my eyes have ever seen.” He presses a kiss into his neck, rests a hand on his waist. Keith pushes him away gently.

“Oh,” he says. “Really bad body stuff.” He picks his pizza back up and looks at it for a second. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I…” Doesn’t he? Isn’t that what he wants? He grabs a slice of pizza. “No, it’s okay. It’s just been a long day.”

He leans on Lance’s shoulder, tries to ignore that sick spinny feeling in his stomach.

\---

When the test comes back positive he stops breathing. Then he gathers himself and takes another one just in case. When that one comes back positive, he throws all the evidence in the trash and takes out the bag.

He then maybe cries in the bathroom for an hour before Lance comes home and finds him sobbing into his knees. Even then he doesn’t tell him, he can take care of this it’ll be okay he’ll be okay.

Lance holds him and asks him, practically begs him to tell him what’s wrong. All Keith can think about is how it’s his own fault for asking for it, for getting so drunk and needy and and and-

It’s uncomfortable when they go to bed that night. Keith wants to rip his insides out all over again and Lance doesn’t know what to do.

He gets a text from his brother the next day, asking if he’s alright. He doesn’t respond.

The clinic is uncomfortable to be in. They’re friendly, treat him with respect, don’t misgender him, but it’s a blur of doctors taking blood and checking his health and it takes too long and by the end of it he’s crawling in his skin, itching to leave. They give him one pill there and they tell him to take another pill the next day. Say that there’ll be cramps and bleeding and for him to check back in a week. He nods numbly as he leaves, wringing his hands together.

He calls his brother.

“Keith?”

“Hey Takashi.”

“Are you alright? Lance said you haven’t been doing good and I—“

“Can we get coffee?”

There’s a pause. “Right now?”

He nods before remembering that Shiro can’t see him. “Yeah.”

Another pause. “Do you need me to pick you up?”

He tells him where he is, a park down the street so he isn’t found out immediately, and waits, fiddling with his phone.

The car ride is quiet, and Shiro keeps glancing over. They end up at Dunkin, and Keith gets something warm to still the stirring of his body.

“How’s the arm?” Shiro seems surprised at being asked about, looking down at the aforementioned prosthetic.

“It’s alright. I still get phantom pains every now and then, but they’re less now. It’s better.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, then Shiro asks, “What aren’t you telling Lance?”

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell him.”

“Well if it’s something involving him, he should probably—“

“Please Shiro.”

He sighs. “Alright, I promise I won’t tell him.”

“A couple weeks ago, the group went out for drinks and we got really shitfaced.”

“That’s always a good start.”

“...” Keith fidgets, turning his cup around. “When Lance and I got home we… we… we fucked. Like textbook definition,” Shiro makes a face at being told this. “He doesn’t remember but I do and it’s not… it makes the dysphoria bad.”

He drums his fingers and avoids eye contact, like he’s a child again and he’s done something bad.

“You should probably talk to him about it and tell him why you’ve been feeling like this the past couple weeks. This is something you can move past, if you talk to him about what is and isn’t comfortable—“

“That’s not it.”

Shiro shuts up.

“I didn’t want to tell him because I figured I could deal with it and get past it and it would never be an issue again because he’s never tried to do that and he would blame himself, but it’s my fault. I asked him to.”

“Keith—“

“A-and I…,” he can feel every part of his body that he hates at once, can feel the cramps starting inside of him. He fists his hands. “I got—“

He can’t even say it, drinking his coffee to keep from talking. Shiro looks around the room before standing up and pulling Keith up with him. When they get inside the car, he starts bawling.

“I got pregnant I got pregnant I can’t tell him that it’s- it’s disgusting I’m disgusting I already got the pills and now, if I don’t tell him it’ll be f-f-fine I can…,” he devolves into wordless, hand muffled noises.

“Keith you have to talk to him.”

“I _can’t_ ,” he says, exasperated. “What if, what if he wants kids? What if he would’ve wanted to, to _keep_ it? I can’t do that. I can’t do that I already feel—“

“He wouldn’t ask you to do that. You know that, Keith. He would never ask you to do that.”

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Keith…”

“Please, I can’t go home like this.”

Shiro sighs, again, and gives. “Fine, but you need to talk to him.”

He calls Lance when they get to Shiro’s apartment, stepping outside for a moment.

“Hey.”

“Keith? Are you okay? You never call.”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought you’d wanna know I’m staying at Shiro’s tonight. The arm’s getting bad again and I don’t want to leave him alone like this.”

He can hear Lance suck in a breath. “Yeah, you should stay the night. Do you need me to come over?”

“No, I’ve got it. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He hangs up and goes inside. They eat microwaved soup for dinner and Keith takes the couch as a bed, curling up uncomfortably under a blanket.

\---

When he goes home the next day, Lance greets him with a hug and a kiss. He freezes up before melting into it.

“Is Shiro doing better?”

“Yeah, he’s okay. It was just a bad night.”

“Well that’s good.”

Lance looks… something unplaceable. He rests his hands on Keith’s cheeks and kisses him again. “Are _you_ okay?”

“What? Yes, I’m fine I told you—”

“Keith don’t lie to me. I know something’s wrong. Shiro wouldn’t tell me, said that I needed to ask you myself, so please, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

Keith mutters a small “traitor” under his breath. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want Lance to know.

“Want me to know what?” He looks hurt and scared and Keith didn’t realize he’d been talking.

“I swear it’s not your fault. It’s mine. It’s my problem and—”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

What? “What? No! No no no no no I’m not oh my god no.”

Lance lets out a breath of relief and Keith wonders if he’ll be so relieved when he knows.

“Then what is it?”

Keith sits on their couch, wraps his arms around a stray pillow to calm his thoughts. Lance sits next to him, unsure of what to do.

“Do you remember a few weeks ago when we went and got really drunk with Pidge and Hunk?”

He nods.

“When we got home, we, aha uh, we had sex.”

Lance looks incredibly confused. “We’ve had sex before.”

“No not like that it was, like, like, like what they teach is the only way to have sex in school.”

His eyes widen and he’s quick to start talking. “I’m so sorry oh my… that’s—”

“It’s fine. I asked for it. I remember asking you specifically for that and I guess drunk me has less body issues than not drunk me, but it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I can deal with it.”

“Then what’s…”

“We didn’t use a condom.”

It takes him a second before the words hit him. “We didn’t…”

“And I got… I got… I—”

He wraps his arms around the pillow tighter and mumbles into it. “I got pregnant.”

Lance looks so guilty. “I’m so sorry I didn’t…”

“You didn’t know, it’s fine.” His voice is watery and maybe his vision’s blurring up, but it’s okay, he’s okay.     Lance pulls him into a hug and it’s comfortable and warm and safe and he lets himself cry a little.

“What do you want to do?”

“I… already went and…”

“Okay.”

“It’s not done yet I still have to take another pill today. And check back next week but… I should’ve asked what you wanted to do but I was—,” scared doesn’t quite make it out.

“Keith, babe, it’s your body. That’s not my decision. You’re obviously not comfortable with it. I can’t ask you to do that. Not to mention, we’re not anywhere near ready to have a kid yet.”

He laughs a little. “You’re right.”

They stay like that for a while, wrapped around each other until it’s time to take the second pill. And then Lance holds him while his insides cramp and he maybe throws up and holds warm things to his abdomen in hopes to ease the pain. It helps, he feels less like stabbing at his uterus with a rusty fork until it shrivels up and dies, but it’s still not great. He bleeds a lot and for him it feels disgusting and wrong all over again, but Lance holds him all the same, whispers reassurances in his ear, combs through his hair with his fingers.

Later that night, when the worst part is over, but he’s still bleeding and nauseous, Lance asks him to tell him how he feels, that he’ll just listen, no judgement. He says that he feels like a teenager again, like he wants to throw this body off a bridge and maybe the next time around he’ll get the right one. Lance tightens his arms at that. He apologizes too many times for not telling him, for keeping it to himself. He says he wants to stab at his insides until they’re gone because he can handle pain, just not this. He says that he’s grateful for Lance being there, for understanding this, for not making him feel lesser for this, for- for-

He can’t talk anymore, voice cracking around his tears and Lance pulls him closer, rests his head on top of Keith’s. Lets him cry into his shirt. He rocks the both of them in place and it feels good, soothing.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says some time later, in the quit and the dark.

“What for?”

“For making you feel like you couldn’t tell me. You should be able to, especially about stuff I’ve done.”

“You didn’t do this. It’s just one big fucked up accident.”

“Yeah, but it’s at least partly my fault. I could’ve, I don’t know, been smarter. Helped you through it, but this, not this.”

“I’m sorry, Lance, I didn’t think—”

“No. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have had to deal with it in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have had to deal with it alone.”

“Lance…”

“Let me take the blame for this, alright? Makes me feel better.”

Keith highly doubts that, but he’s too tired to argue back. So he sighs out a nod and shifts himself into a more comfortable position. Lance wraps his arms around him again.

“Sleep good,” he hears whispered into his hair. He mentally sends a ‘you too’ back as he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly why did i write this its a mess im sorry please leave feedback this is yikes YIKES YIKES  
> WOO  
> ALRIGHT


End file.
